Hermione and the Raven
by Nargled
Summary: Hermione has left the magical world, and is studying at Oxford. She makes a new friend. Fluffy one shot.


A/N: I am working on a longer piece with Hermione at Oxford. The image of a raven sitting on her bench came to me and wouldn't go away. I tried to work it into the story, but it just didn't fit. So it became its own story. Writing it was interesting. It is all narrative to begin with, then all angsty, then all conversation. It also went beyond its original endpoint, but I think it worked, and was fun.

Standard disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters. Looked into buying the rights, found I was several billion dollars short. Or, to paraphrase a disclaimer I saw on robst's site, my thanks to Ms. Rowling for allowing all of us to build sandcastles on her beach. Enjoy.

Hermione and the Raven

Hermione left the lecture hall at Oxford and headed for 'her' bench overlooking the River Cherwell in a small green area called Parson's Pleasure. It was unoccupied. She sat and pulled her law book out of her bag, and with a very contented sigh, began to read. She would come here to read or write whenever the weather and her schedule would allow. It was close to class but relatively quiet, not nearly as busy as The Isis on the other side of campus. Walkers or joggers would occasionally pass by on the path, but for the most part she was left alone. Today though her studies were interrupted by the raucous calls of crows that were louder and went on longer than what she was used to tuning out. Looking around, she saw a somewhat roughed-up raven perched on the rim of a nearby rubbish bin getting mobbed by a dozen or so crows. It seemed rather unconcerned by it all as it pecked and flicked its bill back and forth looking for scraps in the nearly full bin, but the crows had apparently gotten at least one good shot in as there were a few feathers sticking up at odd angles on the top of its head.

The crows were getting bolder and closer in their strafing runs, to the point that the raven couldn't ignore them much anymore. It hunched down on the rim of the bin, its head still flicking back and forth, this time to track the crows circling around it. Another crow dive-bombed the raven, close enough that it had to duck further, and it hissed its displeasure at the whole process. Hermione was getting irritated, at the noise, the crows, even the raven for seemingly starting the whole process. She watched a few more passes by the crows, and the noise increased as more seemed to be arriving every minute. Really, that was quite enough! She stood, and waving her arms over her head jogged at the raven and the crows yelling all the while. The crows took off first, startled by the noise and motion, to circle overhead, still cawing loudly. The raven waited until she was almost upon it before it jumped off the rim of the bin, winging off down the river. The crows spotted it and streamed after it. Hermione watched them disappear around the bends of the river. Much better, she thought, enjoying the restored quiet.

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She did not see the raven again for a few weeks, until there was a rare break in the wet early winter weather. It still felt cold and damp, but the sun was out and the sky was blue. Hermione wended her way to her bench again to read her text. The sun provided some warmth, the river was fuller and darker, but still peaceful, and traffic on the path was minimal. It was nice. About the time she was deciding that it was time to leave as the sun was losing its warmth behind the trees, she heard a soft croaking. Looking around for the source, she saw the same raven, identifiable by the feathers still poking up on top of its head, at the rubbish bin again.

It was having trouble this time as the bin was only half full. It would lean over farther and farther, reaching for the paper bags, before it could no longer keep its balance, and it had to flap its wings vigorously in order to keep from ending up in the bin itself. Righting itself on the rim again, it would hop back and forth along the edge, muttering to itself. It tried again, reaching, reaching, before actually falling into the bin. Hermione couldn't help herself and laughed out loud. The raven gave a loud 'squawk' and clawed and flapped its way out of the bin to settle on the rim again.

"Silly bird, you should have just stayed in there," she said, laughing again.

The raven just cocked its head and stared at her with a jet black eye for a moment, before returning to its trek around the rubbish bin rim. Hermione rooted around in her bag until she found the half sandwich she had left over from lunch. She broke off a piece of crust.

"Here you go," she said and tossed the crust toward the raven. It startled, ducking down and spreading its wings to take off, before deciding that it wasn't going to get hit. Its gaze flicked between Hermione and the crust a few times before it hopped off the bin and walked slowly to the crust. It looked at Hermione again warily, sitting still on the bench, before it stabbed out with its bill and with three quick gulps the crust was gone. It hopped back a few steps, then stopped, still staring at Hermione.

She tossed another piece of sandwich out, this time a little closer, maybe ten feet away. The raven hopped forward, hesitated a moment, then grabbed the food before hopping away again. Hermione threw out a third piece, now about seven feet away. The raven hopped in to about ten feet again, and stopped. It stared at her for a bit, fidgeting, then gave five loud caws. "Oh, all right," Hermione said, and threw another piece farther out. The raven flared its wings, lifting off the ground and back a bit, before coming in again to gobble up the piece. Hermione fed the raven the remaining sandwich bit by bit. After the last of the sandwich was gone, they stared at each other a minute or two. "Well, I must be off," said Hermione. She packed up her books, and headed back towards the bridge. The raven waited until she was a safe distance away, then hopped in to the piece of crust closer to the bench. It too was quickly consumed, then the raven flapped over to the bench, looking for more scraps.

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Hermione did not see the raven again until late the next spring. Its feathers were still sticking up on top of its head. She repeated the experiment from the fall, but could not get the raven closer in than ten feet. That evening she went to the Hooke Library and found some books on birds. Ravens were big, the largest of the corvids, were spread over much of the world, and got on well with human civilization, as they ate just about anything including trash and road kill. They were featured in myths and legends from many cultures, and the Bible. Hermione especially liked the North American Native and the Norse legends about them. They were quite smart, and liked to play for the sake of play. They didn't congregate like crows, though young unmated ravens might travel in groups for a while. If ravens were in a group, they were called a congress or an unkindness. Better than a murder of crows, she thought. 'Her' raven was likely a juvenile unmated male, waiting to be old enough to find a mate. They were more likely to be found in the western and northern British Isles, but finding them in London was certainly not rare. She knew of the ravens at the Tower of London, but had not known the full history and legend surrounding them before. Pleased and satisfied with her new knowledge, she headed back to St. Catherine's for dinner.

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Hermione headed for her spot again. Her papers were all turned in, and all but one exam finished before the summer holidays. A bit more revising, then the exam, then she could spend time with her parents. They were planning a trip to Switzerland this year, and Hermione was looking forward to it. As she approached her bench, she heard again the loud cawing of crows. The raven was perched on the rim of the rubbish bin again, a bit of bagel held down by his foot, pecking away at it. The crows were dive-bombing him again. Not again, thought Hermione. She needed to study. She headed at the raven yelling "shoo, shoo, shoo" and the crows then the raven flew off, all cawing loudly. Hermione sat in the newly established quiet to read. A minute or two later, she heard the loud flapping of wings behind her. Ducking, she looked around, but saw nothing. She heard the rustle of feathers again, this time beneath her. Looking through the gaps in the bench seat, she could see the raven again standing on his bagel, pecking it to pieces. Hermione looked up and around. No crows. "Bright boy, aren't you?" she said. He ignored her and kept eating. Hermione smiled and went back to her reading.

After a bit, she heard a soft "thump, thump, thump." Looking down, she watched the raven poking at her pack. "Hey! Leave off!" She waved the raven off. He hopped to shelter under the far end of the bench, and squawked at her. "Oh, all right." Hermione had a bag of crisps in her pack, and pulled it out and opened it. She tossed one down, and the raven snaked his head out and snapped it up. Hermione dropped one near the pack at her feet, which was also gobbled up. She then put a few on the bench itself, and sat back to watch quietly. The raven could see the crisps through the gaps, and tried to reach his bill through, but it wouldn't fit. He turned in circles, pecking at the underside of the bench, muttering to himself, but couldn't get the crisps. Hermione, moving slowly, held one over the edge of the bench seat. Try as she might, she couldn't help starting just a bit when the crisp was jerked out of her fingers. She held out another one, farther out and higher up. The raven crept his way out from under the bench, eyeing both the crisp and her. Hermione slowly lifted the crisp up, then set it down on the bench away from her, the raven's bright eye following it the whole way. Hermione then sat quietly again with her book on her lap, but watching out of the corner of her eye.

The raven seemed torn. He would stare at the crisps, crouch to hop up to the bench, then look at Hermione, and back off a step or two, sometimes hopping up into the air with a few flaps, before creeping forward again. This repeated itself a few cycles, and Hermione chuckled, "The very definition of a dilemma, it seems." The raven started at her voice, then chuckled to himself in a remarkable imitation of hers, and hopped and flapped up to the very far end of the bench. He crept forward, and snagged the closest crisp. Hermione sat quiet and still. The raven slowly worked his way through the crisps on the bench toward her, until they were all gone, then hopped back to the end of the bench. Hermione very slowly reached into the crisp bag and held one out to him. He crouched down, wings half out, ready to fly off. Hermione held perfectly still. Slowly, slowly, the raven inched forward. His beak opened, his head stretching out, then recoiling back, his feet seeming to be going forward and backward at the same time. Finally greed won out over caution, and he snatched the crisp out of her fingers again.

Hermione slowly turned her head to the left. The raven's beak looked much bigger and sharper this close up. She suddenly felt glad to still be in possession of all her fingers. Vague ideas of petting him and fixing his wayward feathers were promptly put aside as rather foolish. She cautiously fed the raven the remaining crisps. When the raven saw that there were no more coming, he backed up to the other end of the bench, then flapped up to perch on the top of the back. He cawed, but softly and only once, and fluffed his feathers to settle down.

"Pleased to meet you, too, Mr. Raven," Hermione said, "I'm Hermione. What shall we call you?" The raven just settled in further, croaking to himself quietly. "You're at Oxford, so you must be a clever raven. Shall we call you Huginn?" The raven just closed his eyes. "How about Muninn?" He opened his eye and cawed once. "Well, either you like that, or you're telling me to shut up and leave you alone. I would prefer it be the former, so Muninn it is." He just ignored her.

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When Hermione returned for fall term, she began seeing the raven all over campus. He seemed to be a bit bigger than the past spring. He would sit in the sun on the roof edges or on the heads of gargoyles of the older buildings. On windy days, he would perch on the highest peak he could find. He would spread his wings, allowing the wind coming up the building to lift him skyward, then he would flip upside down, falling, before righting and spreading his wings again to land softly on the spot he had just vacated. Or, he could be a tiny speck, high in the sky, circling over Oxford, then stooping like a hawk to scatter the pigeons or the crows before cawing madly as he flapped for the heights again.

He would appear more often at Hermione's bench, especially if she was there in the early evening. If he brought his own food he would sit under her bench safe from the eyes of the crows as he ate. Hermione was careful not to examine his meal too closely. If not, he would peck at her bag until she relented and gave him a snack. She always had something for him. Then he would sit on the back of the bench, eyes closing. Hermione would occasionally read to him out of her book or her notes, or ask him questions before finding the answers. She found that this helped her remember things.

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One day in early October she was sharing a bag of crisps with him again. She had her own crisp in her hand, poised by her mouth, but was too engrossed in her book to eat it yet. Suddenly it disappeared, and she became acutely aware of Muninn sitting on the back of the bench by her left shoulder. She turned her head slowly to have her eye meet his. She could see the reflection of her face in it. His eye and beak seemed huge this close up. He made a noise suspiciously like a laugh before hopping down to the other end of the bench and ate her crisp. Hermione put a small crisp on her left shoulder and turned back to her book. She could hear this time the click and scrape of his claws as he worked his way down to her end. He was muttering quietly to himself, then she felt a small tug on her jumper as he grabbed the crisp. This time he stayed right behind her.

She slowly held another one up for him, a bit forward of her shoulder. Muninn rustled and scrabbled behind her, before eventually stepping onto her shoulder to grab it, hopping to the back of the bench to eat it. Two crisps later and he stayed on her shoulder, waiting for the third. She fed it to him, but left her fingers where they were. She slowly moved them back towards him. She could feel him shifting a bit on her shoulder, but he didn't hop off. She froze as his beak pecked and nipped at her fingers. The suddenly expected pain never arrived. She was painfully reminded of another bird long ago that would nibble on her fingers. Poor Hedwig. Poor Harry. She thought of him now and then, but he was still part of the magical world, and she definitely was not. She couldn't help wondering, though, how he was doing.

The pecking had stopped, and she slowly moved her fingers farther back. Muninn muttered in her ear but did not leave. She hit feathers. She could hear the dry rustle. They felt and sounded like stiff silk. She gently groomed his chest, and his muttering fell quiet. After a minute she felt a sharp peck on her finger. He had evidently had enough. She slowly lowered her hand and turned back to her book. He stayed until the sun set and she had to go.

After that, he would sit on her shoulder whenever she was on the bench. He would take off to the nearest tree if anyone came down the path, but would glide down silently as soon as they were gone. Hermione soon got used to his weight, and would look for him if he wasn't there. She would groom his chest, or try to get the feathers on his head to lay flat, but they wouldn't cooperate.

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The week before Halloween was cold, windy and rainy, and she did not go to her bench. She looked for Muninn about campus, but he was nowhere to be found. She began to miss him and worry that something had happened to him. Finally two nights before Halloween she was walking back to St. Catherine's Hall after the library closed when she heard a flapping behind her and felt a thump on her left shoulder as he landed. "Hello, Muninn," she said happily in greeting, reaching up a hand to pet him. He had never come this close to her away from her bench. She froze as she felt something unexpected. She looked left and saw that he had a piece of paper in his mouth, with writing on it. Hermione's mind seemed to race and draw a blank all at the same time. "Oh, my," she said. She reached up and took the paper. No, not paper, parchment. Oh, my indeed. She looked at the writing, and immediately recognized the scrawling hand. 'Harry' she thought to herself, as tears came to her eyes unexpectedly. She didn't know what she was feeling, just that there was a lot of it. She blinked her eyes to clear them and read the words. _Hi Hermione. I apologize for intruding after so long, but I have been missing you, and I was wondering if I could visit you on Halloween. It's not my favourite night to be alone. Whatever you decide, just send your message with your raven friend. Love, Harry._

Before she could stop them her legs took off running the rest of the way to her dorm, Muninn squawking and flying off. She slammed through the main door and didn't stop running until she made it to her room door. She couldn't get her key in the lock, her hands were shaking so hard. She drew a shuddering breath and tried to calm herself, and was able at last to open her door. She barely remembered to take her key back out of the lock before she closed the door and fell back against it, sliding down to the floor in the dark. She hadn't even managed to switch on the lights. She took some more calming breaths, and started to sort out what she was feeling.

First was surprise of course. It wasn't every day anymore that she got post from a bird. She had worked hard to separate herself from that. Betrayal, a bit. Muninn obviously wasn't a standard wild raven. Perhaps even Harry's familiar. Hermione did have a little bit of pride that a raven would consider her a friend, and now it seemed less … special. Fear, some. She had left the magical world behind, successfully, and here was a tendril of it reaching for her again. Anger about that. She wasn't sure she wanted any contact with it again, and was angry that it had pursued her here.

But it was Harry. That was as complicated as all the rest put together. If there was anyone or anything from the magical world that she would let back into her life, it was him. Her emotions regarding him had never been sorted correctly, and then they were both a mess, and then she left for Australia and found her parents and they were not pleased and she was even more of a mess, and then she left the magical world forever and had never seen him again. There was too much loss there, and any hope that was trying to spring up was just opening old wounds. Did she really want to do all that was needed to reestablish contact? And how could she be with Harry but still avoid the magical world? She was happy with her life and really didn't need this upheaval. She had sworn to herself, and promised her parents, that she wouldn't be part of the magical world again. It was just all too painful. But could she really say no? It was Harry. And she of anyone knew what Halloween meant for him.

Her thoughts raced in circles, and defied her efforts to get them into any semblance of order. Eventually she flopped on her bed without getting undressed, wrapped her duvet around her and tried to sleep. It did not come soon.

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Hermione skipped breakfast the next morning. She did not get much sleep, and what she did get was not restful. She was plagued with images and scenes from her old life, little of it pleasant. She woke late, and just rolled out of bed in the clothes from the day prior, redid her hair in a ponytail and shambled off like a zombie to her classes. She wondered later why she bothered. Her notes were minimal and made no sense, and she couldn't remember a thing from the lectures. She sat quietly through lunch, hardly touching what she ordered. Her thoughts may not have been racing like the night before, but they were just as jumbled and chaotic. Afternoon classes were little better. She sat in the back and avoided participation, answering only when addressed directly. She only knew her last class was over when she was brought back to the here and now by the noise of everyone else getting up and leaving. She avoided her bench. She had not seen Muninn anywhere all day. She had no appetite for dinner, and instead went back to her room. She at least took a shower and put on a night shirt before crawling into bed.

Her thoughts had slowed down enough out of sheer fatigue that she could wrestle with them one by one. She kept returning to the same thought, 'but it's Harry.' She decided that it if was just him, and just here at Oxford, it would be okay. The rest could happen later, or preferably not at all. She felt some measure of peace settling on her. She looked out the window. Still some light left. She pulled on some pants, slipped into some shoes and put on a long coat over her night gown. She looked at the parchment. She was almost loathe to use it, in case it never came back to her. That in itself made her think she was making the right decision. She took the parchment and scribbled a few words on the back: _OK. You alone, and only here. H._ She grabbed her keys and ran for her bench.

The sun had set by the time she got to her spot, but there was still enough light to see by. She sat down and started scanning the nearby trees. Nothing. She sat quietly and waited, but it was hard. She kept turning and looking for Muninn. Stars had come out in the east and a few were appearing overhead before she heard a rustle of wings. Muninn landed not on her shoulder or the bench, but the rim of the rubbish bin, and sat quietly, cocking his head at her. They stared at each other for a minute, then Hermione took a big breath, and held out the parchment. Muninn looked at her a moment longer with a great black eye, then flapped over, touching down only briefly before grabbing her message and flying off. Hermione sat quietly until full dark, watching the stars appear above her. Whatever the outcome, she was committed now. It was getting cold, and she headed back to her room.

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Oddly enough, she slept well. Her dreams were vivid, but not disturbing. She awoke feeling better than she thought she would, and had time for a shower and breakfast before class. She could pay attention in lecture, and managed to borrow some notes from the previous day from her classmates. She begged off invites to various Halloween gatherings, stating she was meeting an old friend.

She skipped dinner, starting to feel a little anxious. She found herself standing in front of her closet, looking at her limited selection of dress clothes, wondering what she should wear. Eventually she snorted at herself. This was Harry, and he was coming to visit her for Halloween. She chose jeans and a warm jumper and hat. She put on her long coat again and headed out.

Her bench was empty again, as were the trees. Hermione sat, staring at her hands, fidgeting in her lap, wondering what he would look like now, what he was doing with his life. What she would say. She still wasn't sure what she was feeling, and there was still a lot of it. Just less chaotic. She looked up again, and there was Muninn, in a tree by the river. He saw her looking at him, and glided silently down to the bench beside her. He had the parchment in his bill. She took it and read his reply by the fading light. _Thank you, Hermione. Promise me you won't freak out. H._ Hermione looked around, but saw no one. She looked at Muninn again, sitting there with his head cocked at her, feathers still sticking up on the top…. Oh my, she thought again. She closed her eyes and whispered, "I promise."

She heard a slight rustling beside her, then silence. Then a voice. "Thanks, Hermione. I've missed you." Hermione opened her eyes. Muninn was gone, and Harry was standing in front of her, green eyes dark as to be nearly black, hair sticking up. He was dressed similar to her, jumper, jeans, long coat, trainers. Hermione stood and stepped towards him. Harry opened his arms tentatively to hug her. Hermione took another step, and of all the emotions running around inside her anger had to win out. "You great bloody git, Harry Potter!" she yelled as she started hitting him about the chest and shoulders. "You've been following me around for nearly two years and only now you show yourself to me? Have you been spying on me? Why? Don't you have your own life to live?"

Harry just raised his hands in defense and slowly backed away from the onslaught. He finally caught her hands and said simply "No."

This brought her up short. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"As in no, I've not been spying on you and I've not had my own life to live for a few years. At least not like you'd think. And you promised you wouldn't freak out."

"This isn't freaking out. I'm angry," she said, wrenching her hands out of his. He didn't try to hold on.

"Ah. Better now?"

"A bit."

"Can we sit and talk? Please?"

"Only if you explain."

"I will. That's why I came in the first place." They sat on the bench, Hermione settling herself with plenty of room between them. Harry saw this and sighed.

"A short summary then. You can ask whatever questions you need after that. Okay?"

"Fine."

"Well, after you left for Australia, things just got worse. The Weasleys were all in mourning, as was I. Ginny's year at Hogwarts was no picnic, either, and it was not a good time to try to start things up with her again. She was a wreck, I was a wreck, everyone was a wreck. It didn't work out. Then there were all the funerals, and I tried to go to as many as I could, or at least meet with the families. The funerals themselves became circuses with all the press, so I had to quit going. The press was terrible and getting worse. The ministry was better, but still needed me. They were flat broke, understaffed, and there was a huge power vacuum. They needed me to give them time to get up and running again and had me showing up to be seen, or making public statements of support. Everything I hated doing, but it had to be done. And the whole time I was fighting with the goblins. Seems they were VERY upset we broke into, or more precisely broke out of, their bank, quite publicly with their dragon no less. They locked down my vaults and were wanting to fine me millions for repairs and restitution. It was only with Shack's help that I got some personal stuff of my mom and dad out. As far as I know, they're still fighting it out."

"What do you mean, 'as far as you know'?" Why don't you know?" Hermione wasn't angry any more, just drained, and scooted a little closer.

"I'm getting there. It finally got to be too much. I was going mental, needed to take off for a while. I bought a tent like the one we had before, and set out. Ended up on the east coast of one of the Scottish Isles, on a cliff overlooking the ocean." He smiled at her. "Your wards and spells work great, by the way. No one ever found me. One of the few things I was able to get out of my vaults was my dad's spell notebook. It had his work on…"

"The animagus transformation," Hermione finished for him. "Though I thought you would be a stag, like your patronus."

"That's frequently the case, but not always. If you remember, my patronus came while I was thinking of my dad, in fact I thought he had cast it before I worked it out it was me. I worked for months on my animagus watching the birds soaring off the cliffs over the sea, the whole while I was missing my broom and wishing I could fly with them. So it seems I got my wish."

"So you're an animagus. Not too surprising, I suppose. But that doesn't explain why you don't have your own life or know if your vaults are unlocked or not."

"True, I'm getting there. You might remember that I like flying a bit." Hermione just snorted. Harry smiled at that. His soft laugh sounded just like Muninn's. "Right. Well, being a raven is perfect for me. The wind has a taste and a smell and a feel. You know where it's come from and where it's going. It's almost like a living thing that lifts you up and carries you. Air currents have a music to them, it's glorious to listen to. It envelops you until you're vibrating with it. Flying becomes like a dance, or like breathing. Ravens seem to be able to sense that, because they can fly like no other bird. Or rather, like every other bird. They can soar, dive, maneuver, dog fight. They fly for fun, and are smart enough to enjoy it."

Hermione looked at his face as he said this. He was looking up at the sky, like he could see the wind that was moving the branches, clouds. He looked happy, peaceful, like she had never seen him before. "You make it sound like you'd rather be a raven."

Harry shrugged. "That's just it. I did. I was liking being a raven more and more and a human less and less. I had nothing to go back to, and loved to fly. So one day, I just quit changing back. I was a raven. For years. I rarely thought about the human world, becoming more like a full raven every day, until I was. It's entirely possible that I could have spent the rest of my life as a raven quite happily"

Hermione looked at him in alarm. This was not what she expected at all. All along, in the back of her mind, was the knowledge that Harry was out there somewhere, and that if she ever needed him, he would be there for her. Even if she had had no intention of ever finding him, just the thought was reassuring. The idea that he could be gone, gone for good, hiding amongst tens of thousands of ravens, never to be seen again caused a small bit of panic to start to well up in her chest, his presence beside her notwithstanding. She scooted closer and wrapped her arm around his. This relieved the panic. Then the thought that he would be happier all alone as a raven, away from all human contact made her suddenly angry. Vague images of her hexing the Dursleys and Dumbledore, or at least his corpse, into tiny pieces flitted through her mind. She took a deep breath. Maybe later. "So how are you here, now?"

"You ran at me yelling and waving your arms to get me off that bin," nodding his head towards it. He smiled to take any sting out of his words.

"How do you figure that? Why would I chasing you away make you be here now? And why were you here to begin with?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders again. "I liked to fly. I flew all over Britain. Even crossed from my island to Norway for the summer once. One day I just happened to be here, the same time you were here. I heard your voice that day, and something was familiar about it. By then I really didn't understand words anymore, but your voice…. I started passing through here more often. Eventually you started talking to me, reading to me. You even gave me a name." Hermione smiled at the memory. "I started having vague memories of not being a raven. I started hanging around here full time. Words suddenly had meaning. Not sentences yet, but words. Being around you started pulling on my human side. Then one day I sat on your shoulder, and I could smell your hair. And I remembered you. You were hope, you were safety."

At this Hermione gave his arm a squeeze. Harry smiled. "Just a week ago, I remembered me. That was scary. I woke up in a raven's body. Very disorientating. I couldn't even fly well for a bit. Took me two days to remember how to transform back. I thought I was going to have to come here and scratch letters in the dirt to get you to help me. Finally I could change back. That was even more disorientating. I felt heavy, leaden, earthbound. The wind didn't talk to me anymore. Walking was even hard at first. I had to stare at the parchment a long time before I remembered how to spell. Took me ages to decide what to say. I finally got it written, and delivered it to you."

Hermione felt crushed. "And I took off running….. I'm sorry Harry. It was just so confusing and sudden…"

Harry gave her arm a squeeze, putting his free hand over hers. "I understand. It was. Longest two days of my life, though. Was in that tree," he pointed over his shoulder to a large oak, "the whole time. I'm glad you came."

"So am I, now." She looked over at him, to see him smiling back at her. She had forgotten how beautiful his eyes were. She felt like she was being pulled into them, up into the sky. A small smile formed on her face of its own volition. There was still lots to feel, but it all seemed good. Very good. She lifted his arm up and across her shoulders and snuggled in. Harry pulled her gently tight. The thinking part of her had to have its say, however. "Where are your glasses?"

She hadn't noticed until now that he wasn't wearing them.

"Don't seem to need them anymore. I assume it's part of the transformation, but my vision started improving after I changed back the first few times.

"Hmm." Hermione kept staring. Harry smiled as he stared back. Hermione's smile grew. "So what now?"

Harry chuckled again. "Heck if I know. Was I ever one to plan ahead? Ravens live in the now. And I've only been human again for a couple of days. I'm sitting beside you and you smiled. At me. Maybe you'll do it again. That's as much planning as I can do."

Hermione's smile grew even bigger. That was possibly the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her. The thinking part of her brain was filled with swirling thoughts and worries about the magical world, the Ministry, Gringott's, goblins, Harry's accounts, her parents…. The emotional part scooped them up and plopped them in a teacup and set it in a corner. Harry was here, she was here, and that was enough for now. Harry's smile was getting bigger too, and she had to laugh. Grinning idiots the both of them.

The roiling feelings stilled further, into a calm ocean. One giant feeling slowly surfaced, like a great whale, or even a small island, shedding water in sheets. It was old and familiar, and without the constant fighting for her or Harry's life or the stresses of being new to the magical world, and with the benefit of a little time and maturity she could examine it in isolation. It was... Oh my, again. The thinking part of her brain tried to take off again. This was Harry Potter, hero of the magical world, he had only been back in her life for an hour, she had left him and all the rest behind... She scooped it all up and threw it in the teacup with the rest. Harry was here, she was here. It became a small mantra. She smiled even bigger. They stared at each other, and their heads moved fractionally closer.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"I think I really want to kiss you….."

"Oh. But….?" He was trying to frown while smiling at the same time. It was cute.

"I've seen what you eat when you're a raven. You're going to need to seriously brush your teeth first."

Harry tipped his head back and laughed. It was loud and carefree. She didn't remember him ever being so happy before. Herself either for that matter. She stood and pulled him up by his hand. "C'mon. I'm hungry, and I assume you are too. I want some curry and a pint. There's a nice place across campus."

Harry came willingly, holding out his arm for her to take, and they started off in comfortable silence.

"Hermione?" Harry asked a few minutes later.

"Hmm?"

"What's curry?"

She looked at him. Definitely hexing. Definitely very, very small bits. She smiled despite the sadness and anger that flashed briefly inside her. "Don't worry, Harry, it's yummy. I'll help you order. If you can eat out of rubbish bins you can eat curry."

"You're not going to let that go, are you?"

"Not for a little while, anyway."

"Well, when you transform, I promise I'll only tease you for a little while over whatever gross things you do."

Hermione looked up at Harry in surprise. "Harry, I haven't done magic for years. What makes you think I have a form?"

It was Harry's turn to look surprised. "How could you not? You always mastered spells before I did. I figure you'll only take half the time it took me."

Hermione thought for a moment. "That's suddenly very appealing. I still don't like to fly, though you make it sound so…..wonderful. I wonder what I'd be?"

They continued across Oxford. Lots of people in small groups, many in costume, were out as well, heading for Halloween parties. Some knew Hermione and called out greetings. She waved but did not stop or chat.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Is there a place near the restaurant you could buy me a toothbrush?"

It was Hermione's turn to laugh, loud and long. "Don't worry, Harry, my parents are dentists. I think I've got it covered." She had plans to give Harry some very good memories for Halloween.


End file.
